Sei Shonagun's Pillow Book
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Sei Shonagun's Pillow Book
Authors and editors: Jessalynn Bird and Brittany Blagburn.
Who was Sei Shonagun?
Sei Shonagun (966-1025 CE) was a writer and poet whose work gives insight into the Japanese court during the Heian period (794-1185 CE). She also served as a lady-in-waiting to first empress Teishi (977-1000 CE), whose father Fujiwara Michitaka was regent for the young emperor Ichijō. Shonagun’s father, who was also a poet, served the empress as well. Another lady-in-waiting and author of The Tale of Genji, Murasaki Shikibu, became Sei Shonagun’s literary rival.
Literature in Heian Japan:
During the beginning of the Heian period, much of the literature that was produced in Japan was written in Chinese due to continental influences. The invention of the phonetic script kana for recording poetry elevated the respect with which writing was received in Japan. Eventually writing became so important that the ability to craft poetry often became a prerequisite for serving at court.
Male scholars, officials and courtiers devoted themselves to learning classical Chinese texts and poetry. Some men also wrote romantic tales in Japanese, as did Lady Murasaki with The Tale of Genji. These stories were often written in installments and accompanied by illustrations.
Men and women alike also kept journals (nikki). Men’s journals tended to be business-like, but women enriched the genre and used it to record their thoughts and important life episodes. Sei Shonagun avoided self-examination (unlike the author of the Sarashina nikki) and instead wrote, flamboyantly for a public audience. Her popularity appears to have irritated Lady Murasaki (see the description of Sei Shonagun in Lady Murasaki’s diary).
What is the Pillow Book?
The Pillow Book is a literary diary in which Sei Shonagun collected her impressions of the world around her while she served at court. Aside from her own thoughts on day-to-day life, she notes inequalities between the advancement of men and women during the Heian period as well as her opinions. Her entries in The Pillow Book offer both a critical and contemporary perspective on the inner workings of life at court.
The observations found in The Pillow Book can double as a loose historical record. She details events that would not have been recorded in official records. Sei Shonagun also highlights the cultural interests of the time in her entries Additionally, Sei Shonagun’s work helps to establish an entirely new genre of writing during the Heian period and cements the style of the period as well.
Questions:
Why is Sei Shonagun writing her work? Is it private or public?
Who is Sei Shonagun’s audience?
Why does Sei Shonagun mix storytelling with list making in The Pillow Book?
In what ways do Sei Shonagun’s class, rank, and gender affect what she chooses to write about?
How does the Pillow Book give modern readers an insight into the inner workings of court life during the Heian period?
Torii Kiyonaga, Sei Shonagon and Her Companion, from an untitled series of court ladies, c. 1784, color woodblock print, courtesy of the Art Institute of Chicago, creative commons license.
Excerpts from Sei Shōnagon, The Pillow Book, trans. Meridith McKinney (Penguin, 2006).
[sect. 21]
Women without prospect, who lead dull earnest lives and rejoice in their petty little pseudo-pleasures, I find quite depressing and despicable. People of any standing ought to give their daughters a taste of society. They should show them the world and let them become familiar with its ways, by serving as attendants at the palace or other such positions.
I can't bear men who consider women who serve at court to be frivolous and unseemly. Though mind you, one can see why they would. From his majesty the Emperor, whose name can barely be spoken for reverence, to the court nobles and senior courtiers, not to mention people of the fourth and fifth rank of course, there would be very few men who don’t catch sight of us at some point. And have you ever heard tell of a lady who served at court shyly hiding herself from her own servants or others who came from her house, let alone palace maids, latrine cleaners, and general dolts and nobodies? A gentleman wouldn’t come across as many people as we gentlewomen do--though probably they do while they are at court, it’s true.
I can see why a lady who has served at court could be considered less than suitably refined when she’s later installed as someone’s wife and is treated with due respect. But surely there’s considerable honor in being called Chief Gentle-woman, and sometimes going to the palace and taking part in festival processions.
And she’s in a still finer position once she’s left court service and settled down at home. If her husband is a Provincial Governor and the family is chosen to provide one of the Gosechi dancers, she won’t make a fool of herself with the kind of stupid, boorish questions that country people ask. Now that really is refinement, surely [pp. 22-3].
[sect. 22] Dispiriting things
A dog howling in the middle of the day [….]
Robes in the plum-pink combination, when it’s now the third or fourth month [….]
A birthing hut where the baby has died [….]
A scholar whose wife has a string of daughters [p. 23].
[....] A letter from the provinces that arrives without any accompanying gift. You might say the same for a letter sent from inside the capitol, but this would contain plenty of things you wanted to hear about and interesting news, which makes it a very fine thing to receive in fact.
You’ve taken special care to send off a beautiful, carefully written letter, and you’re eagerly awaiting the reply -- time passes, it seems awfully long in coming, and then finally your own elegantly folded or knotted letter is brought back, now horribly soils and crumpled, and with no sign remaining of the brush stroke that sealed it. ‘There was no one in,’ you’re told or ‘They couldn’t accept it on account of an abstinence.’ This is dreadfully dispiriting.
A carriage is sent off to fetch someone you’re sure is going to come. You wait, and finally there’s the sound of the carriage returning. ‘It must be her,’ you think, and everyone in the house goes out to see -- but the driver is already dragging the carriage back into its shed. He drops the shafts with a noisy clatter. ‘What happened?’ you ask. ‘She’s going somewhere else today, [p. 23] so she won’t be coming,’ he replies offhandedly, then he hauls out the harness and off he goes [p. 24].
[.....] It’s also very dispiriting when a man stops coming to visit his wife at her home. It’s a great shame if he’s gone off with a lady of good family who serves at court, and the wife sits moping at home, feeling ashamed and humiliated. [....]
It’s even more dispiriting for a man when a woman fails to visit him. And when the night has grown late at his house and suddenly he hears a subdued knock at the gate and with beating heart he sends to find out who it is, only to have the servant return and announce the name of some other, boring person, well the word ‘dispiriting’ doesn’t begin to cover it [p. 24].
[....] There are also those times when you send someone a poem you’re rather pleased with, and fail to receive one in reply. Of course there’s no more to be done about it if it’s to a man you care for. Even so, you do lose respect for someone who doesn't produce any response to your tasteful reasonable references [p. 25].
[....] A house where four or five years have passed since they brought in a husband but there’s still been no joyous birth celebration is most depressing [p. 26].
[sect. 25] Infuriating things
A guest who arrives when you have something urgent to do, and stays talking for ages. If it’s someone you don’t have much respect for, you can simply send them away and tell them to come back later, but if it’s a person with whom you feel you must stand on ceremony, it’s an infuriating situation.
A hair has got on to your ink-stone and you find yourself grinding it in with the ink-stick. Also the grating sound when a bit of stone gets ground in with the ink [p. 26].
[....] I also really hate the way some people go about envying others, bemoaning their own lot in life, demanding to be let in on every trivial little thing, being venomous about someone who won’t tell them what they want to know, and passing on [p. 27] their own dramatized version of some snippet of rumor they’ve heard, while making out that they knew it all along [p. 28].
[....] You’ve just settled sleepily into bed when a mosquito announces itself with that thin little wail, and starts flying round your face. It’s horrible how you can feel the soft wind of its wings [p. 29].
[....] Some newcomer steps in and starts interfering and lecturing the old hands as if she knows it all [....] A man you’re in a relationship with speaks admiringly of some woman who was once his lover. This rankles even if the affair is now safely in the past, and you can imagine how much more enraging it would be if she were actually a current lover of his. Still, there are also some situations in which it doesn't really bother you [p. 29]
[....] And I hate people who don’t close a door that they’ve opened to go in or out [p. 29]
[sect. 26] Things that make your heart beat faster
[....] A fine gentleman pulls up in his carriage and sends in some request [p. 30].
To wash your hair, apply your makeup and put on clothes that are well-scented with incense. Even if you’re somewhere where no one special will see you, you still feel a heady sense of pleasure inside [p. 30].
[sect. 27] Things that make you feel nostalgic
[....] Things children use in doll play
[....] Last year’s summer fan [p.30].
[sect. 28] Things that make you feel cheerful
A well-executed picture done in the female style, with lots of beautifully written accompanying text around it [....]
Something written in very delicate strokes with just the tip of an almost impossibly thick brush, on a lovely, clean white sheet of Michinku paper [....]
Water drunk when you’ve woken in the night [p. 30].
[sect. 40] Insects
[....] Nothing is more unlovely than a fly, and it properly belongs in the list of infuriating things. Flies aren’t big enough to make them worth bothering to hate, but just the way they settle all over everything in autumn, and their damp little feet when they land on your face [....]
Summer insects are quite enchanting things. I love the way they’ll fly round above a book when you’ve drawn the lamp up close to look at some tale.
Ants are rather horrible, but they’re wonderfully light creatures, and it's intriguing to see one running about over the surface of the water [p. 47].
[sect. 60]
I do wish men, when they’re taking their leave from a lady at dawn, wouldn’t insist on adjusting their clothes to a nicety, or fussily tying their lacquered cap securely into place. After all, who would laugh at a man or criticize him if they happened to catch sight of him on his way home from an assignation in fearful disarray, with his cloak or hunting costume all awry?
One does want a lover’s dawn departure to be tasteful. There he lies, reluctant to move, so that she has to press him to rise. ‘Come on, it’s past dawn,’ she urges. ‘How shocking you are!’ and his sighs reassure her that he really hasn’t yet had his fill of love, and is sunk in gloom at the thought he must leave. He sits up, but rather than proceeding to put on his gathered trousers he instead snuggles up to her and whispers a few more words from the night’s intimacies then there’s a bit more vague activity and somehow in the process his belt turns out to have been tied. Now he raises the lattice shutter and draws her out with him to the double doors, where he finally slips away, leaving her with assurances that he’ll spend the day longing for their next meeting. She sits there watching as his figure disappears, filled with delightful memories [pp. 55-56].
[sect. 67] Disturbing things
[....] You give a new servant, whom you don’t really know and trust yet, some precious thing to take to someone, and then she’s late returning [p. 59].
[sect. 71] Rare things
A son-in-law who’s praised by his wife’s father.
Likewise, a wife who’s loved by her mother-in-law.
A pair of silver tweezers that can actually pull out hairs properly.
A retainer who doesn’t speak ill of his master.
A person who is without a single quirk. Someone who’s superior in both appearance and character, and who’s remained utterly nameless throughout his long dealings with the world [p. 61]
You never find an instance of two people living together who continue to be overawed by each others excellence and always treat each other with scrupulous care and respect, so such a relationship is obviously a great rarity [p. 62].
[sect. 90] Infuriating things
Thinking of one or two changes in the wording after you've sent a message to someone, or written and sent off a reply to someone’s message.
Having hurriedly sewn something, you’re rather pleased with how nicely you’ve done it -- but then when you come to pull out the needle, you find that you forgot to knot the thread when you began. It’s also infuriating to discover you’ve sewn something inside out [p. 93].
[sect. 91] Things it’s frustrating and embarrassing to witness
A guest has arrived and you’re sitting talking when people inside begin a conversation of a confidential nature, and you have to sit there hearing it, powerless to stop them [p. 95].
[sect. 92] Startling and disconcerting things
[.....] Someone bluntly saying things that are embarrassing and unpleasant for the other person [....]
Someone with a letter that’s to be delivered elsewhere shows it to a person who shouldn’t see it [p. 96].
[sect. 93] Regrettable things
[....] A like-minded company of women or men sets off together from the palace to visit a temple or some other place. The sleeves spill tastefully out from their carriage, scrupulously, even over-scrupulously, arranged -- so much so that someone of taste might find the effect if anything a bit repellent -- and then, to everyone’s deep chagrin, you don't meet with a single horse or carriage bearing anyone who could appreciate the effect. It’s quite extraordinary how, from sheer vexation, you find yourself longing for even some passing commoner to have the sensibility to appreciate the scene, and later spread the word [pp. 96-7].
[sect. 105] Things that are hard to say
[....] The reply to a rather overawing person who’s sent you a gift. Some young person who’s only just reached adulthood asks you an unnerving question about something you find it difficult to talk about in front of her [pp. 117-8].
[sect. 119] Embarrassing things
The heart of a man. [....]
I must say I’m ashamed for any woman who’s taken in by some man who is privately thinking, ‘How depressing! She’s not all what I’d hoped she’d be. She’s full of irritating faults’, but when he’s with her will fawn and flatter and convince her to trust him. This is particularly true of someone who has a reputation for the dashing nature of his love affairs -- such a lover would never act in such a way that would suggest to the woman that he is lacking in feelings for her. And then there’s the man who doesn’t keep his criticisms to himself, but will speak his mind about one woman’s faults to another woman, and do the same about her when he’s with the first, while she never suspects that he slanders her in the same way to the other, and assumes that his confiding these criticisms to he can only mean she’s the one he really loves. I must say, if ever I do come across a man who seems to feel for me at all, I immediately assume he’s actually quite shallow-hearted, so I have no need to expose myself to potential embarrassment.
I really do find it astonishing the way a man will fail to be in the slightest bit affected by the moving nature of a woman’s deep unhappiness, when he considers abandoning her. Yet how glibly he’ll criticize the actions of others! And then there’s the man who takes advantage of a lady at court who has no one to protect her interests, wins her over, and when she falls pregnant, repudiates the affair completely [pp. 126-7].
[sect. 120] Awkward and pointless things
[....] In the grip of a foolish jealousy, a wife takes herself off and goes into hiding from her husband, certain that he’ll come looking for her -- but he's in no mind to do so, and goes about his business with brazen indifference. So she must face the fact that she can’t stay away from home indefinitely, and finally decides to return of her own accord [p. 127].
[sect. 122] Awkward and embarrassing things
Going confidently out to greet a visitor on the assumption that it’s for you, when he’s in fact called to see a different person. It's even worse when he’s brought along a gift as well.
You happen to say something rude about someone, and a child who overhears it repeats your words in front of the person concerned [p. 127].
[sect. 136]
After the Regent had departed this life, certain events were set in train in the world. There was considerable upheaval and commotion, and Her Majesty left the palace and moved to the Konijō mansion. Things felt rather difficult for me at this time, so I retired to my home for a lengthy period. But I remained deeply uneasy over how matters stood with Her Majesty, and in fact I wouldn’t have been able to sustain the estrangement for very long.
One day Captain of the Right Rsunefusa came to call, and he reported to me as follows. ‘I paid a visit to Her Majesty today, and I must say I was deeply moved by it. The gentlewomen were all still carefully maintaining formal court dress, with trains and Chinese jackets to match the season. I peeped in past the edge of a blind, and there I saw eight or nine ladies sitting in a row, wearing fallen-leaf ochre Chinese jackets, pale violet-grey trains and robes in aster or bush-clover combinations, all very lovely. The garden was deep in grass, but when I asked why it hadn’t been cleared, Her Majesty replied through Saishō that she expressly wished to see the dew on it, which I found most touching. The ladies all said how miserable they were that you’d retired to your home. “No matter what’s [p. 143] occurred,” they said, “Her Majesty feels that she must surely be here with her now that she is living in such a place-- but she won’t listen.” I had the impression that they intended I should pass this on to you. Why not try returning? It’s a very moving place. And there are lovely peonies by the balcony,’ he added.
‘Well, I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘I wasn't liked, and I didn’t like it …’
‘Plainly spoken,’ he said with a laugh.
In fact, Her majesty had never given me real cause to be concerned over how she felt about me. It was the others around her who were getting together and saying I was in league with the Minister of the Left. Whenever they saw me come from my room they’d suddenly stop talking. I’d never been spurned like that before, and I hated it. That’s why I chose to ignore Her Majesty’s repeated summons to return. Besides, everyone around her would be saying I was on the other side, and there'd be all sorts of baseless rumors about me.
Then Her Majesty's summons ceased. As the days passed I sank deeper into dejection, till at last one day one of the serving ladies brought a letter for me. ‘Her Majesty gave this to me secretly via Saishō,’ she whispered, ridiculously conspiratorial about it even here.
This must mean Her Majesty had herself written the message rather than simply replayed it through another, I thought excitedly, and I opened it with pounding heart. The page was empty -- all I found enclosed was a single kerria petal, on which was inscribed the following: ‘and never rises into words’.
All my long unhappiness at the break between us was swept away by this wonderful message. Observing my joy, the serving lady said, ‘I hear that Her Majesty is constantly recalling you in the course of conversation, and all her ladies are also mystified by how long you're staying away. Why don’t you go back? Then she rose, saying she was just going to make another visit nearby, and would return again before long.
After she’d left, I settled down to compose my reply, but I simply couldn’t recall the beginning of the poem Her Majesty had used. ‘How extraordinary!’ I muttered to myself. ‘There can’t be anyone who doesn’t know an old poem like that! I’ve [p. 144] almost got it, but it just won’t come. What on earth can I do?
Hearing me, a young serving girl sitting nearby prompted me by saying, ’It’s “Greater the feeling / that in the waters of the heart …”’ Now how could I have forgotten that? It was most amusing to find myself instructed by my own serving girl.
Not long after I’d sent my reply, I returned. Still feeling quite unsure of my reception, I was much more tentative than usual, and when I first went before Her Majesty I could only peep timidly out from behind the standing curtain, but she laughed and said teasingly, ‘Is that someone new to service I see there?’
I don’t care for that poem I used,’ she said to me, ‘but I do think it was perfect for my purposes at the time. I simply couldn’t rest easy until I’d run you to ground.’ She really didn't seem at all changed towards me [....] [p. 145].
A scene from an illustrated scroll of Murasaki Shikibu's Tale of Genji, ca. 1130 CE, Tokugawa Museum, Nagoya, Japan. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons
[sect. 148] Repulsive Things
The back of a piece of sewing.
Hairless baby mice tumbled out of their nest.
The seams of a leather robe before the lining’s been added.
The inside of a cat’s ear.
A rather dirty place in darkness.
A very ordinary woman looking after lots of children. The way a man must feel when his wife, who he’s not really very fond of, is ill for a long time [p. 151].
[sect. 151] People who seem enviable
[....] I thoroughly envy anyone -- man, woman or priest -- who has fine children.
Also people with lovely long, smooth hair with beautiful ends.
And I very much envy great people when I see how everyone reveres them and attends to their every need.
And people who write in a beautiful hand and are good at poetry, who are called on for every occasion [p. 153].
[sect. 153] Occasions for anxious waiting
[....] Someone’s expecting a child, but the due date has come and gone and there’s still no sign of the birth beginning.
When you receive a letter from a distant man you care for, how nervously you struggle to open the tight seal on it!
You set off late to see a festival, and alas the procession has already begun. You glimpse the white batons of the policemen who are clearing the way ahead of the procession, and while your carriage is being maneuvered into a closer position in the crowd, you’re filled with despair at the thought of what you’ll be missing, and long to be able to simply get out and walk [....]
You become very anxious when you have to make a quick response to someone’s poem, and you can't come up with anything. If it’s a lover there’s no particular need to hurry and send a reply, but there are times when circumstances make it necessary. And if it’s some exchange with a lady, nothing special, and you feel you can just dash something off, that’s precisely when you’re inclined to make an unfortunate blunder [p. 155].
[sect. 176]
When I first went into court service, everything seemed to overwhelm me with confusion and embarrassment, and there were times when I could hardly hold back my tears. I attended Her Majesty each night, behind her low standing curtain, and she would bring out her pictures and so on to show me, but I was so nervous that I could hardly stretch out a hand to take them. She described what was in each picture, asked what I thought was happening and generally tried to set me at ease with her tak. I had to bend to see them by the light of the oil lamp that stood on the standing tray, and I was painfully aware of how the details of my hair would show up even more clearly than in the daylight hours. It was a fearful cold time of year, and the glimpse of her hands emerging from the wonderful, glowing pale plum-pink sleeves filled me with deep awe. I remember gazing at them in astonishment, still fresh from home and new to all I saw, and thinking, ‘I never knew someone so marvellous could exist!”
When dawn arrived that first day, I hastily prepared to return to my room, and Her Majesty gently teased me by remarking, ‘Even the god of Kazuraki wouldn’t be in quite such a hurry to hide himself away!’ I kept my head low, fearful of exposing myself to her in profile, and didn’t dare raise the lattice shutters. The servants who’d entered gave the order that the shutters be opened, but Her Majesty forbade it, and they smiled knowingly and went out again. Her Majesty then detained me with questions and talk for quite a while longer, till finally she said, ‘You must be wanting to go back to your room. Off you go then, and be sure to return as soon as evening comes.’ [....]
The head of my room also scolded me for my shyness. ‘This is most unseemly,’ she said. ‘Do you intend to go on cowering in your room like this? Her Majesty is showing how she feels about you by choosing to allow you into her company so astonishingly easily, you know.’ Thus, urged along on every side, I miserably did as required and presented myself, though I was feeling quite beside myself with shyness and unhappiness. [p. 169]
[....] A senior gentlewoman was in attendance to see to Her Majesty’s needs, seated close by her, and she herself was seated before a round incense-wood brazier decorated with an inlay ensign of pears. Beyond the pillars, a crowd of ladies was sitting packed close together around a long brazier, their Chinese jackets informally slipped back from the shoulders, and I was filled with envy to witness their easy nonchalance. I watched as they carried messages to and fro, stood or sat, came and went, without a trace of diffidence, chatting and smiling and laughing together, and was overcome just to imagine that I might ever one day be able to mingle with them like that [....]
Before long, there came the high cry of a retainer clearing the way. ‘It sounds as if His Excellency is on his way here,’ people said, and they began to tidy up the various things left lying about I was longing to return to my room, but I couldn’t get myself out of the way at such short notice, so I simply withdrew somewhat deeper into the room -- yet some curiosity must have made me still peep out from an opening in the standing curtain.
But it was the Grand Counselor Korechika who arrived, his cloak and violet gathered trousers glowing most beautifully in the light from the snow. He settled himself at the foot of a pillar. ‘I’ve been kept away by an abstinence these last two days,’ he said, ‘but with this heavy snowfall I decided to call and see how you were.’
‘I feared that “the path is gone”, with all this snow,’ came Her Majesty’s reply. ‘How did you get here?’
He smiled. ‘Are you “truly moved” to see me, then?’ he inquired. Could there be anything more splendid? I wondered. As I listened in awe to their elegant exchange, I marveled that there must surely be nothing more wonderful. It seemed to me precisely like a scene from those tales where the storyteller gives her imagination free rein and describes it all in the most extravagant terms [p. 170].
Her Majesty was dressed in layers of white with a scarlet Chinese damask over-robe, and the vision of her there, her flowing hair black against the scarlet, felt utterly dream-like, the kind of sight I’d seen depicted in paintings but never before in reality.
The Grand Counselor now set about chatting and joking with the ladies. Listening to them responding to his banter without the least sign of embarrassment, and contradicting and arguing with him when he asserted something false, I couldn’t believe my ears, and I felt an astonished blush creeping irrepressibly over my face [....]
Then he must have asked who was behind the curtain, and the ladies’ replies seemed to have whetted his interest, for he stood, and when I expected him to move in another direction he instead came over to where I was hiding, seated himself very close and proceeded to talk to me. He asked me about various things he'd heard concerning the time before I came to court and whether they were true or not, and it all felt quite unreal to me to find myself so astonishingly close to him, when even from a distance the sight of him had filled me with awe and confusion. How could I possibly answer, sitting there wracked with embarrassment as I was, soaked in a nervous sweat at my shameful impudence and folly in daring to presume I could serve at court? -- I who had always hastened to draw the inner blinds and spread my fan as a shield in case my form was somehow discernible from outside, if his glance had so much strayed in the direction of my carriage as he rode with His Majesty in some procession I’d gone to watch.
The Grand Counselor now went so far as to take away the prudent fan with which I was shielding myself from his gaze. In my desperation, I longed to shake my side-locks forward in an attempt to cover my face, knowing full well how unseemly this would appear to him. I cowered there, agonizingly aware that my consternation was quite exposed to his gaze. Surely he would now rise and leave me alone! But instead he sat turning the fan over in his hands and talking a while longer, asking me [p. 171] who had commissioned the painting on it, while I pressed the sleeve of my Chinese jacket against my bowed face so hard that I must surely have rubbed off great patches of powder, leaving me with a humiliatingly mottled complexion.
Her Majesty apparently understood what agony the Grand Counselor was subjecting me to by so cruelly lingering on talking like this, for she interrupted him. ‘Here,’ she said to him, ‘look at this and tell me who you think wrote it.’
‘Let me see it over here,’ he replied, but she insisted that he come to her.
‘But this lady has seized me and won’t let me go,’ he joked. This was wonderfully modish of him, but I writhed at how inappropriate it seemed in relation to someone as unworthy as I.
Her Majesty now drew out a bound notebook with samples of people’s free calligraphic style, and they looked at it together.
‘Yes, whose can it be?’ said the Grand Counselor. ‘We must show it to this lady here. I’m sure she can recognize the hand of all our present-day writers,’ and he carried on saying extraordinary things of this nature, doing his best to induce me to respond.
As if matters weren’t distressing enough already with only the Grand Counselor present, there came now a voice announcing the arrival of another visitor, and a second similarly dressed figure appeared. This man was rather more glamorous and ebullient than the Grand Counselor, and he made everyone laugh with his joking and buffoonery. The ladies responded with tales of the doings of this or that senior courtier, and hearing all this I felt as if I was witnessing angels or creatures descended to earth from some higher plane - though later when I’d grown used to court service I realized how little this was the case in fact! All those gentlewomen you witness with such awe will have felt much as you do when they first arrived, and once you begin to really understand such things, you naturally come to take court life much more for granted [....][p. 172].
"Tenshi-Sekkan Miei" Portrait of the Emperor-Regent Fujiwara Munetada, Museum of the Imperial Collections (Sannomaru Shozokan) of the Imperial Household Agency. The Minister of the Right Fujiwara Munetada (1062-1141), author of the Chuyuki diaries, was a court noble who was well learned in the ceremonies, old customs, and manners of the Imperial court. Note the lacquered cap. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
[sect. 178]
Nothing is more splendid than rank. How different a man is when he is called Commissioner or Adviser and can be snubbed with impunity, from the same man once he’s become Counselor, Grand Counselor or Minister, when he's held in awe and can throw his weight around! [....]
Women, on the other hand, are much less impressive. Certainly an imperial nurse who attains third rank or the title High Gentlewoman is of considerable importance, but she’s already past her best, and what’s so good about it after all? And most women never even get so far. It seems that a lady who goes into the provinces as a Governor’s wife is envied as having achieved the epitome of prestige by normal standards, But surely much more impressive is someone from an average family who becomes the wife of a court noble, or a court noble’s daughter who [p. 174] becomes an Empress.
However, it’s a most impressive thing to watch a young man’s rise [p. 175].
[sect. 244] Horrid filthy things
Slugs.
The tip of a broom used to sweep some shabby wooden floor.
The bowls in the Privy Chamber [p. 206].
[sect. 245] Terrifying Things
Thunder at night.
A thief breaking into a nearby house.
If it’s your own place you are too beside yourself to know what’s happening [p. 206].
[sect. 246] Things that give you confidence
[....] To be comforted when you’re feeling low, by someone you truly love [p. 206].
[sect. 248]
Being disliked by others is really a most distressing thing. How crazy would you have to be, to accept calmly the fact that you are probably the sort of person nobody likes?
[....] Yes, there’s nothing more wonderful than to be well-loved, not only by parents but by the one you serve and by all those you have close dealings with in life [p. 207].
[sect. 251]
I really can’t understand people who get angry when they hear gossip about others. How can you not discuss other people? Apart from your own concerns, what can be more beguiling to talk about and criticize than other people? But, sadly, it seems it’s wrong to discuss others, not to mention the fact that the person talked about can get to hear of it and be outraged. Of course if it’s someone you have a close bond with, you pause and consider the pain you might cause, and choose to keep your criticism to yourself -- though if it weren’t someone close to you you’d no doubt go ahead and say it, and have a laugh at their expense [pp. 207-8].
[sect. 258]
I was talking with some people in Her Majesty’s presence -- or it may have been something I said as a result of her own words -- and I remarked, ‘At times when I’m beside myself with exasperation at everything, and temporarily inclined to feel I’d simply be better off dead, or am longing to just go away somewhere, anywhere, then if I happen to come by some lovely white paper for everyday use and a good writing bush, or with decorated paper or Michinoku paper, I’m immensely cheered, and find myself thinking I might perhaps be able to go on living for a while longer after all. And when I unroll a section of fresh green Korai matting, thick and finely woven and with the edging design in vivid black and white, I’m overcome with the feeling that life itself is just too wonderful, and I really couldn’t bear to relinquish it just yet.’
‘The simplest trifles console you, don't they,’ remarked Her Majesty with a smile. ‘It must have been a very different sort of person who gazed “at the moon above Sade Abasute Mountain.”’
The others who were present also teased me with such comments [p. 212] as, ‘You’ve certainly come up with an incredibly easy version of a magical formula for averting trouble!’
Not long after this, when I’d gone back home and was in great distress, Her Majesty sent me a wrapped gift of twenty bundles of magnificent paper. With it came a message, relayed through one of the gentlewomen, asking me to make haste and return, and saying, ‘Her Majesty asks me to tell you that this is because of what you said that day. She doubts if it’s fine enough for copying out the Sutra of Longevity …’ I was absolutely thrilled. It would have been wonderful enough even if it hadn’t been Her Majesty but some ordinary person who’d recalled a conversation I’d long forgotten myself, but in this case the words were particularly special for me. I was thrown into delighted confusion by them, and could find no way of responding, so I simply gave the messenger by way of reply:
Most inexpressible
My gratitude to one on high
Whose god-like paper gift
Has granted me new lease of life --
The crane’s renowned longevity.
‘Though please say to Her Majesty that I fear this is overstating it,’ I added. I gave the messenger, one of the serving women from the Table Room, a gift of a green damask shift.
Yes indeed, I thought to myself with pleasure, it will be fun to be distracted from my worries by throwing myself into the business of creating a bound book from this paper [p. 213]. [A messenger arrives shortly after with a Korai-edged mat, sent secretly by Her Majesty] [pp. 213-4].
[sect. 289]
It’s terribly depressing to discover some quite worthless person blithely reciting a poem that you yourself had particularly liked and carefully copied down in a notebook [p. 244].
Creative Assignment (choose one of the following):
Lady Sei Shonagun now has a Twitter account. Tweet your observations on modern life and events in the style of Lady Shonagun. Be sure to include hashtags. 500 words.
Lady Sei Shonagun now has a blog. Write an entry making an extended observation on some aspect of modern life in the style of Lady Shonagun. Be sure to include illustrations. 500 words.